


H

by Kanade8



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, OC, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-12 20:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11744805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanade8/pseuds/Kanade8
Summary: The detective H has been called in to work on the Kira case. Can she help apprehend the mass murderer without anyone else dying? Will Kira succeed in killing her, if his conventional way won't work? H's path is fraught with danger. Will she succeed?





	1. Prologue

Note: This is based on “The name your parents give you is your real one, unless you have it legally changed. You can’t name yourself and have it count for a Death Note.
    
    
                    I was standing in the middle of an immense kitchen, modern and fully operational. Shiny metal cooking utensils hung around the room, and the countertops were clean, in fact, everything was. I myself, felt extremely out of place. In contrast to the spotless, shiny kitchen, my skin was dirty and grimy, and my clothes were ragged and threadbare. In front of me, stood a bespectacled old man, with thin grey hair and a mustache.  He was extremely tall in my perspective. I only came up to just past his knees.
    
                    "What's your name?" The kindly looking old man, asked. However, I had no intention to answer, for I did not actually have an answer to his question. This man had brought me here, from the streets of Chicago, but he still didn’t have all of my trust. I never trusted anyone completely, and I was always alone.
    
            “What’s yours?” I asked, only to be difficult, and find out moreabout this person.
    
    
    
            “Hm. You may call me Wammy. “The man, who had only identified himself as W previously murmured. “Do you have a name?” The man reached forward and touched my shoulder gently. My expression of shock, as brief as it seemed to me, must have given the answer away. “I see…” His smile was warm, refreshing, and it made me feel safe despite my misgivings. “Would you like one?” I gazed at him, thinking deeply about the question. _I’ve never had a name, so I don’t know what having one means. Milo always called me “you” but that isn’t a name. She called others you as well. Besides, if you give me a name, do I owe you? Owing someone something isn’t good, if you owe someone they control you. Besides, what if I get a name I don’t like? Can I even name myself? I can’t even read, or write. But Milo did teach me some math. I can read numbers and count. Can my name be a number? Milo taught me a lot of things._
    
    
            “That depends, if you give me one then… also if I get a name I want to be the one to choose it. But…I wouldn’t know if the name is good or not. And… ” I let my sentence trail of. I had no idea how to communicate the rest of what I was thinking.
    
    
    
    
    
            “I see that you want to know more before you decide. Now, come with me.” W started to walk away, and I, not desiring to be left alone in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, and knowing almost nothing about the situation I was in, followed him. Besides, If I wanted to learn more, this person was the one who knew everything I needed to find out. I followed him down the halls, my bare feet padding on the wooden floor softly. After a series of turns, which I took note of, (Right, left, left, right) we came to a solid oaken door. Wammy drew a key from the pocket of his extremely fancy suit, the type of which I had only seen people who had a lot more money than I wearing.  The door slowly opened, most likely due to its weight, without making a sound. That meant that the hinges were oiled, possibly new.  Revealed beyond the door was a wide, open office filled with books, the centerpiece being a giant wooden desk with a lamp and papers on top. There was no nameplate, no indication of who this person truly was.
    
    
    
    
    
            “You are going to be tested.-“ At this, I felt anxiety wash over me, but I listened to his words carefully. “This will be logical problems, not riddles. All the information you need will be given to you in the question.” _I hope the test is not on paper, I can’t read. Also, riddles usually depend on something having a double meaning, or being ambiguous. The one riddle I know does, at least. It’s a famous one too._
    
    
    
    
    
            “Is the test on paper?” I fiddled with my hands. _Not that the situation would be better on a computer. Maybe he knows I can’t read or write. He did pick me up from the streets after all._
    
    
    
    
    
            “Normally, it would be. But you will be an exception. Let me explain some more things.” Wammy picked up a pen and started rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “This test is to see your logical and problem solving capabilities. I’ll read the questions out loud. Some will be multiple choice questions, and others will be free response.” I nodded to show that I understood. “However, if you do not get above a passing grade on this test, you will be sent to another orphanage.” _At least it’s not back into the streets. Although, a lot of orphanages have a reputation for being bad places. It probably depends on a lot of things though._
    
    
    
    
    
            “Let’s begin. The questions will increase in difficulty as the test goes on. If a rooster lays an egg-“
    
    
    
    
    
            “Bad question.” I murmured to myself, but Wammy heard it.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Oh, How so?” But he was smiling, so I hadn’t offended him, which was good for me.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Rooster’s boys. They ain’t going to be laying eggs.”[[1]](http://#_ftn1)
    
    
    
    
    
            “Very well. Next Question” The questions continued, each one slightly more difficult than the last. As the test continued, my nervousness grew, my body becoming tense, until finally, I was so full of anxiety I just went numb, my body and mind relaxing.
    
    
    
    
    
            “You have a three gallon and a five gallon measuring device. You wish to measure out four gallons of water. How would you do this?”
    
    
    
    
    
            “I would go get a four gallon measuring thingy, to measure. Also, just fill the five gallon one up to four.  But, if it’s just with those things, and not marked, then I would fill the fiver up, pour it into the three. That means 2 would be left, in it. I would pour out the three, then put the two gallons left on the five. Then, I would fill up the five, and pour it into the three. There would be four in the fiver….Unless my math is wrong. I bet it’s wrong.”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Next question:” Wammy never gave any indication of whether I was wrong or right. “A stark raving mad king tells his 100 wisest men he is about to line them up and that he will place either a red or blue hat on each of their heads. Once lined up, they must not communicate amongst themselves. Nor may they attempt to look behind them or remove their own hat.The king tells the wise men that they will be able to see all the hats in front of them. They will not be able to see the color of their own hat or the hats behind them, although they will be able to hear the answers from all those behind them. The king will then start with the wise man in the back and ask "what color is your hat?" The wise man will only be allowed to answer "red" or "blue," nothing more. If the answer is incorrect then the wise man will be silently killed. If the answer is correct then the wise man may live but must remain absolutely silent.The king will then move on to the next wise man and repeat the question.The king makes it clear that if anyone breaks the rules then all the wise men will die, then allows the wise men to consult before lining them up. The king listens in while the wise men consult each other to make sure they don't devise a plan to cheat. To communicate anything more than their guess of red or blue by coughing or shuffling would be breaking the rules. What is the maximum number of men they can be guaranteed to save?”[[2]](http://#_ftn2)
    
    
    
    
    
            “Um…99. I think. Because, they can tell each other what the person’s hat is. But that would kill the person telling the other if his hat wasn’t that color as well. I guess. So the first one would have to count out the number of hats in a specific color. And call out either red of blue, to signal others. If it’s odd then a certain color, if it’s even then the other. The rest would have to keep track as well. But I don’t really know…”The test was long, I had no idea how long I had been sitting here. Besides, I didn’t know how to read a clock anyways, or use the sun. The curtains were closed over the central window anyway. After the question about the king, the test switched to questions about crimes.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Last question:” At this, my breath hitched. I was almost done! “A criminal is brought into a prison for major crimes. The warden informs him that he will be shot in the middle of the prison by 20 of his men. The prisoner is fine with that but he asks for some conditions "All of your men must stand 20 feet away from me and I must be able to select where each of them stands. If I survive, I get to leave."  
    
    The warden thinks about it and knows that all of his men will still have an open shot at the criminal, so he agrees. The next day immediately after the firing squad is positioned the criminal walks out untouched. How did he do it?”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Means they didn’t kill 'im. So, they must've been facing each other, with risk of hitting  each other. It wouldn’t work though. For the criminal.”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Why?” Wammy had been writing things down during the test, most likely my score.
    
    
    
    
    
            “They’d just shoot him anyway. Criminals ain't gonna get that type of deal, and the whole setup seems like a thing that ain't really happen. The men would probably not follow the thing, and turn to shoot him.” I fidgeted in my seat.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Well. In any case,” Wammy straightened his glasses. “Welcome to the orphanage.”
    
    
    
    
    
            “I passed!?” Shock and awe washed through me, I never thought I would, although I tried my hardest to pass, and apparently it worked. Wammy smiled, encouraging.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yes. You did. Since you did, you get to stay here. Also, there are more things I have to explain. You will choose a letter, which, for all intents and purposes, is your name.  You can’t have the same letter as anyone else. a Here is the list of letters.” Wammy shuffled through a stack of papers that was on his desk, drew one out and handed it to me. On it were symbols that I knew were letters, but I had no idea what they entailed.
    
    
    
    
    
            “A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,G,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z.”  The symbol Q looked interesting, but there was a small mark next to it. Other letters had marks by them as well. The “Z” did, and the “L.”
    
    
    
    
    
            “The mark mean someone gots it already?”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yes.” Out of all the letters that weren’t marked H was the most interesting to me. “I” was boring, just a straight line. “F” to me seemed unfinished, and “Y” seemed like a more interesting version of “I,” but it was still boring. “H” though…H seemed finished, interesting. I counted it out from the beginning, and it was the eighth symbol. Eight was my favorite number. Milo had shown me how it was written, along with all the other numbers she knew. My decision made, I pointed out the “H” symbol.  
    
    
    
    
    
        “Ah, that one. “Aich” Now, You will be going to classes, learning many things. Interacting with people, logical thinking, and deduction skills. It will be extremely difficult for you, since you can’t read or write, and only know basic math. If you give up, you will be sent to another orphanage, which does not offer classes of this caliber. This institution offers better opportunities, so it would be in your best interests not to quit.” He said this last thing with an edge. Nodding, I waited to see if he had anything more to say. “You’ll have extra classes, to bring up your literacy level. There are rules of course, but those will be explained later. Right now, we’ll get you settled in” He pressed a button which appeared to do nothing, until a lady wearing an apron came into the room.
    
    
    
    
    
            “You called?” She asked, her hands folded in front of her.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yes. Please escort H to one of the empty rooms. She has been accepted. Please explain the rules. There is no luggage.” The lady nodded and held out her hand towards me. After a quick glance at Wammy, who encouraged me to go with her, I hopped off the chair. My little legs had been hanging in the air, and I had been swinging them. Following the woman, I left the room.
    
    
    
    
             Inside the room, Wammy sat back in his comfortable leather chair. “Extraordinary.” He murmured. “A tie.”
    
    
    
    
    
    [[1]](http://#_ftnref1) She grew up on the streets. Of course she doesn’t have perfect English.
    
    
    
    
    [[2]](http://#_ftnref2) I did not invent these questions. Most came from online, logic puzzle websites.


	2. Invitation


    Years later...  
    
                            The woman was probably considered beautiful by many. She had symmetrical features, and her lips were full, her eyes a warm chocolaty brown color, and her blonde hair was thick and curly. Too bad she was dead. Her body lay on the exam table, clothed in a hospital gown. I was in a hazmat suit, as were the rest of the people with me.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “We brought you the body, as you requested.” I was working with the FBI on a case, one that was particularly interesting. People were dying of a mysterious illness, but it was not an epidemic. Also, all the victims had been people with a certain amount of power, celebrities, businesspeople, politicians. There had been thirty victims already, and all of them had died. This woman, named Kendal Moore was the most recent victim.
    
    
    
    
    
                    I had already determined that the infection was viral, it was one of the ones that “reprogramed” cells to create more of the virus until the cell burst. Lysis. It wasn’t airborne, otherwise there would be a full blown epidemic on our hands, possibly leading to a pandemic. Besides, all of the victims were of a certain caliber, someone was definitely targeting them. The virus affected the respiratory system. Alleles burst, and the victims began to cough up blood, but only after they had trouble breathing. It was fast, too. As far as I could tell from examining the victims, and the tissue samples and such, the virus acted within 25 hours. As well as affecting the respiratory system, it targeted the endocrine system as well. Kidneys failed, and the victims died coughing up blood, internal contamination building up, feeling nausea, sometimes chest pain, and in severe cases, seizures. It was quite fascinating.  
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Bishop, why hasn’t the FBI gotten me those records yet? I need all the information on the victims in the last two days before they died. What they did, what they ate, where they slept, and with who if they were doing that. I need everything.”
    
    
    
    
    
                    “May I remind you, that you are not an investigator on this case?” Bishop was a rude man, with blonde hair and blue eyes. _Oh, please. I’ll solve this case. I am hired as a coroner, but I have also been hired as an investigator. I’m sort of a jack of all trades, except I’m a master of quite a few of them. But whatever, you aren’t my problem._
    
    
    
    
    
                    “If I am to determine how this virus is spread, I need to know those things.” I kept my voice cool and level. Getting Bishop angry would not get me the records I needed. Muttering under his breath, bishop left, probably to get the records.  
    
                    “Alright, I need full bloodwork and tissue samples. Get them to me quickly for me to analyze please.” All four of us got straight to work. After the autopsy, I carefully extracted the vitreous humor from the victim’s right eye, preparing a sample from analysis. The work continued, time ticking away. Soon I had identified the makeup of the virus, and was working on a vaccine.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Oi! Ginger!” I was rudely interrupted during my work by Bishop waving a folder in my face, and calling me names based on the color of my hair. Reacting quicker than he thought I would, I grabbed the folder from his hands and walked over to the table that was serving as my desk.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Thank you, Bishop.” He did get me the records after all, even though he was being a steaming pile of leprous drippings, full of maggots and rotting. I glanced at the clock. An hour had passed from when Bishop had left to get the files. Surveying the room, I saw that my temporary colleagues were almost done with their work, and I was done with mine.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Okay, thanks. You may go home.” The autopsy was done, all the necessary samples taken. It would have taken a much longer time if it had been me alone. Bishop laughed, a short, bitter laugh.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “So that’s it? You swoop in here, boss us around, and then dismiss us?” Holding his hands up in an indignant fashion, he was very angry.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Hold on, Bishop, our superiors told us that we’d be working temporarily with someone they hired. We’ve been treated with nothing but respect, and we’ve gotten results! This person:” The speaker gestured enthusiastically at me. “Is getting us somewhere!”
    
    
    
    
    
                    “All that has been done is things a normal lab rat could have done!” Bishop was getting angrier quickly.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “No.” Another person spoke up. Her name was Erin, she was the California state coroner. I was currently borrowing her facilities. “H identified a new type of virus, and is now working on a vaccine. H was one of the first to notice that all the victims died from the same thing. Although the bureau thought that these cases were murder, H confirmed it. All very quickly. H is not a “normal Lab-rat” as you put it.” Erin was obviously offended by “Lab-Rat.” Tensions were getting high, it was time to diffuse the situation.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Bishop.” I kept my tone calm, kind. It was never a good Idea to provoke someone stronger than yourself, it usually got me beaten up, before and after I had been accepted into the orphanage. Although, I was taller than Agent Bishop, and had been trained in a certain discipline of martial arts, he was heavier, and probably stronger. “You can leave if you want.”
    
    
    
    
    
                    “My boss said I had to stay with you.”
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Your boss will never have to know. Besides, Erin-” He glanced at the coroner standing next to me. “can keep an eye on me.  So can Ian, Judith, and Sam.” By the look on his face, I could tell that he was almost convinced. I just needed one more thing to sweeten the pot.
    
    
    
    
    
                    “Also, I’ll make sure you get a bonus for having to deal with me.” That did it. Bishop left us all alone, muttering rude nothings about “goddamn lab-rats.” I turned to the people that were currently my team.
    
    
    
    
    
    “Thank you. You can go home now if you want, I promise not to blow up anything.” _Nothing important anyway._ Erin, Ian, Judith, and Sam were all very good at their jobs, and had helped quite a lot. “I have to go through the files, anyway.”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Got it. Thank you, H.” Ian left, and after him so did Sam. Judith and Erin stayed.
    
    
    
    
    
            “It’s interesting to watch you work.” Erin smiled, her chocolate eyes warm and friendly. Erin was a very visually appealing person, and smart. She deserved the title of head coroner because of her skills. Judith was her assistant, working to learn. “Besides, we can help you go through the files.”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yes, you can.” The files were pretty thick. There were 30 victims after all, and all of them had busy schedules. I started with the most recent victim, whose corpse had been moved to storage after the work was done.  Her name was Kendal Moore, a relatively famous, up and coming singer. Starting the day before yesterday, this file was a record of her activities. Whoever had ordered it did good work, and quick too. Usually it took more than an hour to compile files like these. It was also a group of people, most likely.
    
    
    
    
    
            She had lunch with a person, who had paid. The name given was “Sienna Long.” Then a photoshoot. Next a recording session, followed by a party, where numerous paparazzi could verify her presence. Then home, asleep. The next day, an interview on television, a recording session. Then, lunch. This time with a person named “Angel Ninos.” _Huh, Anagrams of each other…Wait!_
    
    
    
    
    
            “Erin, Judith, did they have lunch with people?” Both of them jumped at my outburst, but recovered quickly.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yeah, um… Elena Smith had lunch with a person with Leann Gison on the day she died.” Judith spoke. I flipped the paper I had been reading over, and wrote down the names Sienna Long, and Angel Ninos.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Spelling?”
    
    
    
    
    
            “L-E-A-N-N  G-I-S-O-N” _Another anagram! Maybe the real name is in here somewhere. Also, all of these names would be considered female. The killer is someone who identifies as a woman, most likely there name is made up of these letters. In fact, the real name might be the first one used!_
    
    
    
    
    
            “Erin?” I directed an implied question her.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Sina Leonng. S-I-N-A L-E-O-N-N-G.” Realization alighted on her face. “They’re anagrams! I understand.”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Who was the first victim?” I could not keep the excitement from leaking into my voice, I knew we were close to identifying the killer.
    
    
    
    
    
            “The first victim was a man named David Smith. A day prior to his death, he had lunch with a woman named…Gina Nelson.” _Another anagram, and this name seems more…natural, some of the others seem incredibly contrived._ Lunging for my bag, I flipped open my computer. I typed the name Gina Nelson into the search bar, bringing up millions of results. _All of the victims had been relatively well known. The killer probably associates with them._ I narrowed the search by location, and by excluding social network profiles.
    
    
    
    
    
            The first result, the most relevant: Gina Nelson, M.D. I clicked on the link. Dr. Gina Nelson was a general practitioner, based in the San Diego Area, which is where we were. She has a bachelor’s degree in virology, so she had the necessary knowledge to do this.  A quick, admittedly illegal run through of her client list revealed that all of the victims were her clients. _I. got. You! She probably infected them with the virus over lunch!_ I held back a delighted giggle.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Gina Nelson is the killer.” I spoke with absolute certainty on the matter. “I gotta go and tell some people, and then I’ll arrest her!” I was smiling now, I had won. She was found out, and I was about to catch her.  Just as I was about to leave, I had my hoodie on and everything, my cellphone rang. _Fucking hell, I hate having one of these. Why would he…Wait, this isn’t Wammy’s number… although it could have been changed. I’ll answer it. Might be something interesting._
    
    
    
    
    
            “Who are you and how do you have this number?” My voice was terse, and I had caught the caller of guard.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Ah! Eto…” _Oh, so the caller is Japanese? Ah, I see. Kira’s in Japan, I’ve worked out that much. According to news reports, a majority of the criminals dying from heart attacks are Japanese. Also, most have been dying before and after school starts there, indicating a student. And, based on the news broadcasts naming the criminals killed, the killer needs a name and a face. Also, the news that is broadcast in the Kanto region matches the criminals killed. But, also….Kira is most likely male, a majority of serial killers are. Probably at least a teenager, some parents won’t let small children see news like that. And, and Idealistic view of justice, but mature enough not to judge all crimes equally, right now most of the people dying committed horrible crimes. No pickpockets or purse snatchers. Of course, I’m not officially on the case, this is just something interesting..._
    
    
    
    
    
            “Matsuda!” This was easy to hear over the phone, and there were shuffling sounds.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Sharp tongue as always.” The voice was one I recognized, and had not heard for a long time. I was very happy to hear from Wammy. He was working with L, and had been for a while.
    
    
    
    
    
             “Am I being invited to work the case?” As I spoke, I continued out the door, heading for where the FBI had set up shop in San Diego. “I have a lot of other cases…” I kept my cool, although I was bursting with energy inside.
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yes.” I could’ve sworn I heard him chuckle. I guess I was behaving like a child, but oh well.
    
    
    
    
    
            “….Why?” Is it because I don’t have a name?” _I mean, not having a name is useful in this case. Could still die by being shot or something though._
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yes. And, you are incredibly skilled at what you do. You would be an asset to this team. Also, you would bring a unique perspective to the case. Besides, isn’t it said, the more the merrier? Two minds are better than one?”
    
    
    
    
    
            “Yes. Well, I have an arrest to make. And…”
    
    
    
    
    
            “What?”
    
    
    
    
    
            “I’m bringing my dog.” This time, he really was laughing as I hung up.


	3. It begins

       "Oh, my gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh!” The rather flashily dressed lady behind me was, to put it nicely, having a nervous breakdown. I had seen her previously, while waiting for the plane to depart, and she had exuded a strange mixture of confidence, and what I perceived as foolishness. The events unfolding as the plane took off were only serving to enforce that idea. If she was as terrified of flying as it seems, why is she here? I hope she’ll be okay and recover soon. That is a horrible thing to have to deal with. It’s not something that you want anyone to take notice of either. The best thing for me, and others to do would be to leave her alone, let her, and the people who know how to help her deal with it.

  
        Gradually, the woman calmed down, and the plane ride to Tokyo became infinitely more enjoyable. Much to my childish joy, I had received a window seat. I always tried to get one, whenever possible. I loved having the window seat, for reasons that most would know. It was exhilarating, being able to see what seemed like everything through a small portal.  
        I had told Wammy that I was coming a while ago. The reason I was not already there is because of the period of quarantine that all animals have to undergo before they can be transported from country to country. I agreed with the practice, it was logical and it worked. Currently, the plane was traveling over the Pacific Ocean, and even though I did love the view, it had been the same for a while. Usually, people would sleep, but I had no intention of doing so.  Presently, I fished a rather large, thick, well-loved book out of my carry-on bag. I loved to read, and I had read this book many times, as it was one of my rather numerous favorites. The book in question was titled Catch-22, and I was enthralled with it for the rest of the plane ride.

  
        Customs went smoothly, they didn’t stop my dog from entering, or myself either. Also luckily for me, most of the officials spoke at least a little bit of English. At Wammy’s house, you could choose a few languages to learn, and Japanese was one of the languages I had chosen to study. But, I never really get to use them, so my skills are incredibly rusty. Hmm…This will be a good opportunity to brush up, then. Over the week, Whammy and I arranged the meeting. I told him my estimated time of arrival and he told me that someone named Matsuda would come to pick me up, using the alias Taro Matsui, or Matsui Taro, in the order preferred by the Japanese.  Then I spoke to Matsuda. I told him, in my extremely rusty Japanese to look for the person with the Old English sheepdog outside the airport. At least, I am reasonably sure that that is what I told him.

  
        Narita airport was very nice. The excitement I always felt from traveling seemed to intensify here, although my favorite airport is probably the Denver International airport. _Now, H, you are here to catch a serial murderer with what seems like a supernatural means of killing. But, that doesn’t mean that you can’t be killed by anything else though. Could still get shot, run over, electrified, ect. Do be careful, will you? Kira is obviously very smart, don’t underestimate him. L is extremely smart as well, in fact, it’s a bit surprising that I was invited to this case. But I suppose Whammy has his reasons, which he may or may not decide to explain. Wonder if any new information surfaced. I did only really work the case out of boredom, so I probably don’t have all the information that the official investigation has. It’ll be exciting to compare what I have with theirs._

  
        I stood outside the airport, wishing that I could let my dog Wrigely out. Although he was silent, I knew he disliked being in the crate. Absentmindedly, I poked my fingers through the holes in the side of the crate, trying to pet him. My fingers just barely touched his skin, and I rubbed them through his fur. Wrigely’s fur was really soft and warm, under a thick layer of wiry, curly hairs that also still managed to feel smooth. I had adopted him from an animal shelter, and he was my best friend, a bit cliché, I guess, but it was true. My eccentric demeanor put off most people, and I was introverted and antisocial, so I didn’t really care. Besides, circumstances at Whammy’s hadn’t exactly been conducive to friendship, what with everyone competing with each other. I was always traveling for work as well. I adopted him as a companion and guard dog, and trained him well. In fact, I had trained him as a cadaver dog, partially for kicks, but it had come in handy numerous times.

  
        Approaching me from the left, was a Japanese man, with a cheerful demeanor. Ah, that must be him. I waited as he walked up to me, my face devoid of emotion.  
        “Konbanwa.” He smiled and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. If I remembered correctly, that meant Good Evening in Japanese.  
        “Hello.”  
        “Watashi wa Matsui Taro.” Good, I was right. “Gomen'nasai, eto…” He paused for a minute, as if waiting for something. Then he started to speak in uncertain English. “L asks that you prove you are exactly who you say you are.” Understandable, in fact, I think I would have been disappointed if something like this didn’t happen.

 

 

         I smirked to myself. This is going to be **fun.**  
_______________  
The Japanese will be in romaji.


	4. 0422-042046


           “Please give me the phone.” Holding my right hand out expectedly, I thought about how I would prove myself. Of course, I could easily do so by telling them something only we would know. Well, technically Wammy and I would know it. I’ve never actually met L, we know very little about each other. There are many ways I could give evidence that I am H, but other than DNA or maybe a fingerprint scan no definitive proof to L. Wammy is different because I know him and he knows me. It’s something else too. It’s a test of how capable I am. Good thing I have a few Ideas. I’ll go with what I think is best. “Matsui Taro” fumbled a bit giving me the phone. He didn’t drop it, however. Noting the number displayed on the screen, I lifted it to my ear.
    
    
    
    
    
           “I’ll text you something from the phone confirmed as H’s, as what I have to say is something you probably don’t want the person sent to meet me to know. I’ll send it to the number 0422-042046, Is that alright?” A blunt, monosyllabic answer of “yes,” was the only response.  I offered the cell phone to “Matsui Taro,” checking the number again and rummaged around in my drawstring backpack for mine. Discovering in buried deep in the corner under Catch-22, I input the security pattern and began to compose a message.
    
    
    
    
    
         The name of L’s associate is Quillsh[1] Wammy. This should prove that I am at least from the house, as only people from there should know this name. As for proving that I am H specifically, I am sending this from the phone H was contacted. Also to make sure you, well, Quillsh really, knows that it is me: The first question in the test you gave me was about a rooster laying an egg. I interrupted you in the middle to say ““Rooster’s boys. They ain’t going to be laying eggs.”
    
    
    
    
    
          Satisfied with what I had written, I hit send. Almost immediately a notification popped up. “Sending Failed” What? I specified the number… 0422-042046. Ooops, I put a 3 at the end instead of a six. I’ll just fix that, and voila! Satisfied, I powered it off and returned my cell phone to my bag while extracting Wrigley’s leash. At the sight of the bright red cord, he wriggled around excitedly, something that he didn’t cease until I commanded him to sit. The cell phone in “Matsui Taro’s” hand rang, the default tone loud and grating. He let loose a small yelp and rushed to answer the phone. I set about dismantling the dogloo, and listened intently.
    
    
    
    
    
          “Hai?[2] Ā,-sōdesu. Sore wa hontōni hitodesu ka? Watashi wa sōda to omoimashita! Naze hokanohito ni naru nodarou ka? Watashi wa damaru tsumoridesu. Ā! Hai, watashi wa karera ni iimasu. Sayo-[3]“ He stopped in the middle and sighed. I had finished dismantling the crate and was now petting Wrigley, who was wagging his tail nubbin vigorously. All I had gleaned from the conversation was that I was apparently the person I said I was, meaning L and Wammy accepted the text. “Matsui Taro” smiled at me and gestured for me to follow, which I did, holding the leash in my left hand, and carrying the parts of the crate with my right, bracing them on my hip. He opened the passenger door of a silver car, turned back to look at me, and then rushed to the back and opened the trunk. “Gomen'nasai!” Then he kind of jogged backwards and got my suitcase, which I was going to get after dealing with the crate. It was amusing to see him rushing around. After putting the crate in the trunk, I opened the back door and let Wrigley in. He was not going to be stuck in a crate if he didn’t have to be.
    
    
    
    
    
         “Matsui Taro” rushed passed me carrying my suitcase and put it in the trunk.
    
    
    
    
    
         “Arigato.” Smiling at me he waved his hands in a dismissive manner and walked towards the driver’s side. Taking the cue, I got in the passenger side. He peeled out and we were on our way to wherever we were going.
    
    
    
    
    
         “Ie, Ie. Watashi wa Matsuda Touta. Anata no onamae wa?[4]” This much I could understand.
    
    
    
    
    
         “Just call me H.” Wrigley was curled up in the backseat, being adorable.
    
    
    
    
    
         “Oh!” Matsuda gasped in realization. “Watari to L ga anata no denwa o on'nisuru to itta.[5]” Luckily I was beginning to remember my lessons and could figure out what he meant, if only from the words “L,” “Watari,” and “denwa.” Fishing around in my backpack again, I withdrew the phone and powered it on. There was nothing of note, no missed calls or messages. Eh, they probably wanted to start tracking it. Also I guess making sure I’m in the car.
    
    
    
    
    
         The drive proceeded in silence. Talking in this situation was unnecessary and undesirable. I didn’t know where we were going, but I could hazard a few guesses. As it was my first time in Japan, I gazed out the window, drinking in the sights. Trees dotted the cityscape, bright green patches in a sea of metallic color. Wrigley adjusted his position and I stroked his fur absentmindedly. Small cars drove by, and the city blurred. After around 17 minutes, we arrived in front of a building that seemed to be a television station.  
    
    

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
    
    
    [1]An alternative is “Quillish” which is what I had always known it as. However, I chose to use “Quillsh” as that is the spelling that appears on the Wiki and other sites.
    
    
    
    
    
    [2]Moshi Moshi is mostly used when receiving a call from friends and family
    
    
    
    
    
    [3] Yes!  Ah, yes I will. So it's really the person? I thought so! Why would it be someone else? What is-ah okay I'll shut up. Oh! Yes, I'll tell them.  Farewe---“
    
    
    
    
    
    [4]No, no. I’m Matsuda Touta. What is your name?”
    
    
    
    
    
    [5]Watari and L said to turn on your phone.


End file.
